


We Part Ways and then Meet Again

by Kaoru_chibimaster



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Death, FFXV kinkmeme, Fluff, M/M, but not in a sad way?, non explicit prompt, reunion in the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoru_chibimaster/pseuds/Kaoru_chibimaster
Summary: Cor expected to die a warrior's death. That was the only honorable way to go, he swore to himself.None of that mattered when the time came. Not when he could seehimagain.





	We Part Ways and then Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for [this prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4113.html?thread=6762257#cmt6762257).

Cor believed that when his time came, it would be abrupt. Right in the midst of battle, felled by a sword or an unseen enemy. Defending those who could not protect themselves or hunting a dangerous beast in the midst of the fields or depths of the forest. He'd look his opponent in the eyes one last time and grin confidently at them, knowing he gave his all in that fight. Knowing he died an honorable death.

He did not expect to die in his bed, brittle and breathless as old age claimed him at last. He found himself looking at the ceiling of his apartment in the reformed citadel that night, wondering futility if he might regain the use of his legs or if his chest would stop feeling so tight or if, by some miracle, his wrinkles and white hair would suddenly disappear and he'd be _useful_ to Lucis again. He served three kings and all three of them died on his watch under causes he could not stop and he'd be damned if he didn't pour his life into the kingdom in honor of them. Yet how could he do so bedridden and weak? He wanted so badly only to be the protector again. To serve Lucis for as long as he could breathe. So that when he met those three kings again in the After, he could look upon them proudly and proclaim that he's cared for all they've stood and sacrificed for until the very end. So that when he met his loved ones again, he stand before them with his head held high as opposed to ducked in shame. But now... Now Cor wasn't sure he could face anyone in the After, not with how useless he'd become. He didn't even get the privilege of dying for his kingdom. Instead he wasted away on a bed. A truly depressing sight.

Sighing, Cor finally closed his eyes, his thoughts fading away into a void of nothingness.

He did not open them again.

At least, not in the physical realm. When Cor had the good sense to allow himself to feel and to experience, he quickly realized that he was no longer in his bed. In fact, he was standing, a feat he hadn't properly accomplished in three years. His pale blue eyes opened slowly, bright with youth and vigor. Sluggishly, they peered down at his hands, smooth of wrinkles and calloused with use. His clothes, the black jeans and t-shirt and jacket he always wore when he was younger, particularly in his mid-twenties to early thirties. In fact, Cor was certain he was looking down at himself in his prime. He definitely hadn't _felt_ this good in decades.

"You know..."

Suppressing a gasp, Cor's muscles seized in surprise, and he forced himself to turn slowly. As his attention shifted from himself, his surroundings became clearer. He stood in a citadel hallway, the furnishings and scenery outside of the large windows much the same as they had been before the fall and the renovations ten years after. Everything was the same, from the carpet to the banners draped along the walls to...

To the familiar form leaning against one of them, only a few paces away from Cor. His cyan eyes crinkled when he smiled, his brown hair still unshaved at that age and falling loosely into his face. In his mid-thirties, Clarus Amicitia was a handsome man to say the very least. Still fresh with youth yet firm with experience and power. And still exuding charisma from his every pore. All feelings of self-doubt flew from Cor’s mind, leaving him wondering to himself if he was dreaming.

Clarus only grinned at Cor's observation, continuing his thought as if he hadn't broken off in a long pause.

"I can see why they call you The Immortal. Damn near a hundred years old by now, aren't you?"

Cor didn't answer. He wasn't sure of what to say, how to respond... He wasn't expecting this moment to cone so suddenly, not the way it had. So caught up in his dreams of a warrior's death, it hadn't occurred to him once that he might pass in his sleep. And so he found himself in utter disbelief that he was even here, standing before Clarus in what appeared to be a life-like, tailored version of Eternity.

What could he possibly say to that?

"Well? Don't I get a 'hi' at least?" Clarus asked, his grin widening as he pushed off from the wall. His steps were silent as he strode towards Cor. In fact, all of his movement was smooth, ethereal almost, as if his was walking through air and moving through water. Visually he appeared no different, but Clarus had about as much grace as an irate dualhorn when it concerned anything outside of fighting, so Cor knew this couldn't have been reality. Or perhaps it was, and they existed on a different plane of reality than the living.

Whatever it was, Cor wasn't going to concern himself with it. He stepped forward.

Clarus opened his arms easily for the younger man, pulling him into a long overdue embrace. Cor squeezed his arms around Clarus' middle, clutching at the fabric of his crownsguard clothing as if to deter the man from disappearing again. Cor had already lost him once, the same time the second king had gone, and he wasn't about to do so again.

"Don't you worry, Cor. I'm not going anywhere; none of us are," Clarus murmured into Cor's short hair. The feel of his lips against Cor's scalp sent a wave of warmth through his body, an odd experience to associate with being dead but Cor wasn't about to argue, and he pulled back only slightly to press their mouths together. A hand slipped up from Clarus' jacket to tangle into the renewed length of his hair, pulling him closer for easier access. Clarus reciprocated enthusiastically as he tightened his own arms around his partner.

They stood like that for gods-only-knew how long in the middle of the citadel hallway. Cor wasn't even sure there was a concept of time in this place. As far as he was concerned, the moment could have lasted forever and he'd be none the wiser. It was only reluctantly that he released Clarus, though he still stood flush against the older man in clear refusal to let go entirely. Fifty three years he'd been waiting for the chance to hold Clarus again. He wasn't about to move. Instead he pressed his nose into Clarus' neck, breathing in his familiar scent and relishing in his warmth.

"Hi," he finally added as an afterthought. Clarus' resulting laughter sent that wave of warmth back through him again.

So maybe he didn't die the way he wanted to. But he finally earned his rest and his reunion, and he supposed that was what counted in the long run.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus:
> 
> Mors: I hear Cor finally joined us in the afterlife. When do you think we'll see him?
> 
> Regis: Probably in a few months when he and Clarus are done fucking their way through every room in the citadel. Again.
> 
> Noctis: _Gross_ Dad. I don't need to hear this.
> 
> Regis: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
